Looking for Polaris
by Andromeda Rising
Summary: Riku x Kairi two-shot. All this time, she's been looking in the wrong places. It takes her a bouquet of blue roses and a near trip down the aisle to realise what she's been looking for has been in front of her all along, obscured in darkness.
1. Part I: North Star

**Looking for Polaris**  
by Emma East

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Part I: North Star

* * *

"You don't have to wear it--"

"I _want_ to."

With a sigh, Riku surrenders the thalassa shell necklace. He doesn't realise he's been clutching the necklace in a death grip until he deposits it on Kairi's upturned palm; his palm is embossed with shell patterns, concurrent to the lines permanently etched there. Their eyes meet for a brief second, her lips stretch into a smile, and he looks away.

She's clutching a bouquet abundant in blue roses; he doesn't realise how hard she's clutching it until he sees her knuckles have turned white. There's an uneasy downturn to her smile, it seems.

The blue roses are a joke shared between them. He remembers how long they'd searched the mainland to find the finest bunch of white roses—to be died a shade darker than sky blue. He was obliged to accompany her; she had snagged him as maid of honour, using persuasion and bribes to win him over. He would also be bearing the honourary title of best man, thanks to Sora's obstinance. Like the colour of the roses she clutched, it was unorthodox for one man to take both titles, but there he was.

Kairi had, at first, been grasping at straws to follow the 'something old, something new; something borrowed, something blue' adage her mother was so bent on. First off the checklist was something borrowed. Selphie had lent her an item: an opal-encrusted hair pin, as frivolous as it seemed, but she'd always admired the way it glinted in moonlight. Something new was the cups they would exchange vows over (Riku's heart lurched at the thought). They were missing something old and something blue until Kairi decided she wanted blue _roses_, of all things.

Now, she was just missing something old--they hadn't found it until now--leave it to them to put it off until the last minute--and aside, Kairi seemed to think it appropriate. An old thalassa shell necklace. For some reason or another, thalassas were equated in luck to lady bugs and shooting stars and four-leaf clovers. They weren't hard to come by, and Kairi had strewn at least a hundred necklaces of thalassa together in the past. She deemed it fitting.

Still, Riku had been reluctant to give her his because once upon a time it had been her present to him. It was his favourite gift, not because it was the most beautiful or expensive or luxurious, but because she'd made it. With her nimble hands she'd crafted the necklace, patiently drilling holes in the shells, diligently stringing them together, and personalising it with an inscription he hadn't noticed until years later.

She'd held it up to the light for him to see. _A star._

She made it after their final return to the island, to keep them all together.

_To Hades with Paopu fruits_, she'd said; _I'll make you necklaces, instead. They bring good luck to sailors. Not that you two're sailors, mind, but you're travelers, so it's close enough._

She made Sora's first. He didn't gloat, but his grin was enough to tip Riku off that, _Kairi likes me better, nyah-nyah_, in the most childish voice that Riku could imagine. Then again, maybe he was just overthinking.

Kairi had taken a few weeks to make Sora's necklace; for Riku's, it took months. She said she had to find _just _the right shells, and it took forever when the beach was covered in them like stars in a sky.

_I'd string you up the stars, if I could._ She pointed up at Polaris. _See that, Riku? That would be the centrepiece of your necklace. It's the brightest light in the sky. That way... you'd always have light with you._

He shook his head. _I don't need a star. I already have a light._

_You're right, I suppose._ She pressed her lips together, and looked up at the sky. _You have mine...._

Her mouth stretched into a lazy grin. She stood off the beach--water up to her ankles, the receding tide nipping at her feet before stealing away. She'd never looked more beautiful, in her sloppy rolled-up shorts and hasty ponytail, skin aglow in the twilight, fireflies flitting all around her. All around them.

They'd never been together like that again, alone, with only the fireflies and the stars as company.

Now he helps her tie the necklace, fumbling with the clasp and muttering a hasty apology. He feels butterflies rise in his stomach, fluttering their battered wings, at the sight of her in that fitted bodice. He can smell the coconut shampoo wafting from her thick hair, bound in a fancy updo. Of late, her hair has grown so long, and today it has been curled. Most of it is done up by a thousand little pins, Selphie's baroque pin tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

After snapping the necklace in place he tugs on a curl, and lets it go. He can hear the intake of her breath and knows, just from that near inaudible sound, that she's smiling. What he doesn't see is the effort she puts in to making it look like a grin, and not a grimace.

They both turn when the adjacent door clatters open.

"On in one!" Selphie's voice booms, and she closes the door almost as soon as she's opened it.

Nerves tighten the knot in Riku's stomach. He manoeuvres from behind her so he's standing at her side.

"Ready?" He extends an arm akimbo.

Their eyes meet. Her eyes are half-lidded. He thinks, if he can just look hard enough, that there is regret and reluctance lingering in their depths.

That's why she isn't moving. Isn't it? _Isn't it?_

She looks just as nervous as he feels, and he's not even getting married. He resists the urge to crack into a grin and just laugh it off. But her lips are pressed in a firm line, and he's wondering what's going on in that head of hers. Still... he doesn't need to ask: he knows that now, more than ever, she is having second thoughts. Third thoughts, fourth thoughts, spiralling, without end.

Somewhere in his selfish heart he feels the faint voice of hope, whispering.

_Stop it. Shut up._

He takes one step forward to see what she does.

Kairi sighs, turns her head away, straightens her posture, and takes his arm. "Come on, maid of honour, let's get this thing over with."

He turns away and smiles, though he frowns simultaneously. He's glad of the curtain of hair that falls over his face, a curtain to disable her from getting a good look at his face. (He didn't permit Kairi to cut his hair, either; not even for her _marriage_. The word, used in that context, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth).

The music cues and they walk forwards, following Selphie's lead.

Riku's eyes meets Sora's.

Sora looks bashful, and a tad too serious even in light of the formal event. Somehow the suit looks out of place draped across his body; Riku, who knows him better than anyone, knows he's uncomfortable. But the happiness he feels must eclipse that because he can't stop grinning.

Riku lets Kairi go, and though he keeps a smile on, inside he's breaking. He takes his rightful place, just below the altar, and watches her ascend.

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**Author's Notes**: One of the many Kingdom Hearts fics I never put up. I don't read much Kingdom Hearts 'fic anymore--at least, not as much as I did in the past--but I realised that I kind of love this one, so I figured I'd post it. Part two is underway, because I feel this needs more closure.

Reviews are appreciated, and constructive criticism is welcome.


	2. Part II: Rubicon

**Looking for Polaris  
**by Emma East

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Part II: Rubicon

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The material of Riku's tux is rough against her bare skin. For the occasion, she chose a dress without sleeves or straps, praying to the gods above that no one should step on the train like at her Aunt's wedding.

No one has made such a blunder, yet.

The sensation she feels most vividly is in her arm, material chafing her skin. She raises her eyes and her chin slightly.

_This is not the way to walk on your wedding day._ The chastise is light, but she feels a sinking in her stomach. Riku told her the same thing yesterday.

When they arrive at the point which Kairi must let go—they rehearsed this, didn't they?—she finds herself unwilling. Riku does it for her; she almost calls out, but bites her tongue. _Don't._

A feeling of dread settles over her, as if a cold blanket has been draped over her shoulders and wrapped itself around her body. Her face still feels hot and flushed. Today is one of those humid days where the heat feels oppressive. The cool blanket should be a relief, but she knows it isn't: the blanket is dread.

Almost stumbling on a step, she catches herself just in time. She's standing in front of Sora, now, and her face feels like it's on fire.

_Does he think I'm blushing?_

Kairi tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She wishes there was a pitcher of water somewhere, so she could douse her entire body and have a drink. She'd settle for anything, now—that bottle of champagne she spied earlier is particularly alluring, but she's nowhere near it.

Shame she refused Selphie's cup of water a few minutes ago—_no, I don't want to have to go pee while saying my vows, Selph_—but now she wishes she'd have taken a sip. Her mouth feels impossibly dry.

Sora is beaming brighter than she's ever seen him, teeth sparkly white; his dimpled cheeks are as red as hers feel. She almost laughs at the sight of Sora in a suit; it's an image that she can't get over, no matter how many times she sees him in it. He tugs at his collar, and she knows after today he is never going to wear a black tie unless he has to.

He must really love her if he's willing to put up with a stuffy black tux. Her sigh is inaudible.

She does not look at Riku in his tux. She cannot.

After the priest starts talking, Kairi's face begins to feel less heated, but the blanket wraps tighter. It sends shivers down her back and she feels a clench in her chest, like someone is gripping her heart.

She can't focus on a word the priest is saying; they slip by before she's able to grasp any meaning. She's looking away from Sora, surveying the chapel.

Her eyes slide away from the stained-glass windows, and she catches Riku's eyes. Has he been staring at her this whole time—? Something passes between them that sends a zing of pain coursing through her.

His eyes are pleading. _Don't look at me. You shouldn't be looking at me. Kairi, please._

She realises, perhaps belatedly, that her eyes should be on Sora. Sora, whose smile is brighter than the sun, whose blush is more vivid a red than the wild lilies that grow on their favourite strip of beach.

And the hand clenching her heart squeezes harder.

There's a pause: the buzzing in the background that she assumes is the priests' voice halts. She's been looking away again, and Sora catches her eye; he tries to communicate, pleading with her, and she looks at the priest.

"Pardon me?" Her voice is hoarse from lack of use.

"I said, blahblahdiddyblahblah...."

His voice fades into the background as the meaning of what he's saying dawns on her_. Do you, Kairi Elisabeth Huntington, take Sora Noel Brighton to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part?_

She looks down, at her feet, the point of her heels peeking out from behind the hem of her dress; at Sora's oversized feet, clad in nondescript black shoes. Her vision is blurred for a second, jarred by the quick turn of her head. The thalassa shell necklace is heavy, weighing on her collarbone.

"I'm sorry." She can't look at the priest or Sora, but chooses instead to focus on a distant speck, a dust mote among thousands. "I can't." Her voice sounds detached, not hers, but it is, without a doubt, her own.

She looks at the priest, whose mouth is halfway between words; at Sora's father, whose eyebrows are knit together. Then at her mother, her father, her older sister, all sitting on the front pew to the left; her eyes glance off the rest of the crowd.

No one looks more surprised than Riku, though she's willing to bet Sora would give him a run for his money. His mouth, puckered in such a lazy grin moments before, expecting nothings less than _I do_, has gone slack.

He steps closer to her. There's a vague part of her mind that tells her this is a breach of etiquette, stepping closer before _I do_ has been said, but in light of the situation, all bets are off. He's in her face, peering down at her. Has he gotten so tall?... She hadn't really noticed until now how he towers over her.

"You don't mean...?" His whisper is so quiet that only those standing in close proximity can hear.

She looks away. Riku tugs on his collar, a pained look on his face, like he wishes he hadn't heard Sora say that.

Kairi can't focus on anything. Sora is waiting, and everyone else is, too; she can hear their whispers, muffled behind cupped hands and paper programmes.

She feels the hand clench and then mercifully, it lets go. It feels... liberating. Like the ties that have bound her so long have been severed.

For a moment she forgets herself, and then the blue roses are crashing to the ground. The movement catches her eye, and she looks at it disinterestedly: the moment seems to have paused to let the flowers fall. She's sure everyone's eye is on it, ridiculous at that sounds.

Time slows down. The falling bouquet is the only sound in the room; there is no awkward shuffling of feet or clearing of throats or muffled gasps, just a heavy silence punctuated by the sigh of flowers rustling to the ground. Something else falls alongside it, catching the light for a blinding moment before falling to the floor with nothing but a clank in its wake.

When she looks at Sora, she expects anger and confusion. But he is not. More than anything, he looks... resigned. Disappointed. His shoulders are hunched, but his frown—his eyes—they tell her he is resigned. He closes his eyes, and his head droops.

Kairi turns, and her glance slides to Riku for a second—not quick enough that they catch each other's eyes, but just slow enough that she sees the look on his face. And then she is hitching her heavy skirts by the handful, walking hurriedly down the steps of the altar. She squares her shoulders and walks down the aisle, away from the altar, eyes focused on the church doors and not taking in the faces of the crowd as they turn to her.

Throwing the heavy double doors open, she lifts her head, moments ago hung in shame; it's like she's seen the sky for the first time.

She hitches her skirts once again and makes her way down the steps of the church. Rice and confetti is thrown in her direction before the people realise they are hailing the bride alone; _where is the groom?_ They stop mid-throw, and peer into the church, as if it's just dawned on them that the bride is on the runaway.

The old limousine they should have taken off in is parked at the curb, string of cans, _Just Married!_ sign et al. The driver, leaning against the door to the driver's seat, stares rudely at her as she makes her way towards the car.

She stops, laying a hand on the door.

The driver throws his cigarette down, stubs it out with a toe. "Where's the groom?"

"Just... get me out of here."

After turning to get in, she stops. Sora has run after her, grabbed her arm. His grip is gentle, but it is firm, and she tries to wriggle away, but he holds fast.

"Wait." Sora's subdued voice strikes a chord.

She's forced to look into his eyes.

His eyes search hers. They're so big and blue and _pained_. "I don't understand."

"You will." Kairi turns. "Maybe not now, but... someday."

She violently wrenches out of his grip—maybe his has just gone slack and she's not really as strong as she thinks. But either way, she stuffs herself and her skirt into the seat (with some difficulty) and slams the door.

Sora is standing there, a hand resting on the back of his neck, and he's not looking at her, but at something in the distance. She can tell he's thinking. He doesn't make any motions to stop her from leaving, just stays there as they pull away and merge with the traffic.

Kairi's eyes glaze over as they drive through town; her mind is not on the people she has disappointed. It drifts to what happened the night before.

She and Selphie were in Kairi's room at her parents house. Kairi was sitting on an ottoman in front of a vanity, amidst the poof that was her skirt—Selphie told her to not let it touch the ground yet. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and tucked away beneath the ottoman. Selphie was behind her, messing with something—she had her back turned to Kairi, and was turned at an angle that she could not see what Selphie was doing. She turned around, took a clip out of Kairi's hair, and flitted to another part of the room, out of view.

_You know, Selphie, it's just the dress rehearsal._ Kairi batted down her skirt: it was so poofy that she felt lost in its folds. _My hair doesn't need to be perfect._

_Pfft, right!_ Selphie's exclamation could be heard clear as day, even when she'd wandered out of the room and was presumably in the bathroom down the hall. _You have to look perrrrfect._

Kairi shook her head, but did not argue. Selphie flounced in—and dropped the pin she was holding, like she'd forgotten about it. Her eyes lit on something else.

_Oh! Your roses!_

Kairi tried to locate her in the mirror, but Selphie was out of sight.

_Hey, these're fakes!_

_We're not using the real ones until the, um..._ Kairi couldn't bring herself to say it. _The ceremony._

_Y'know what's useful about studying useless things like flower language? I mean, you say it's useless, but it's kinda practical. If you think about it. _Selphie reappeared, bouquet in a stranglehold of one hand. She waved it around, brandishing it like she would a toy sword.

_...What?_ Kairi was hesitant to humour Selphie on this: she and Riku had not put a thought into the meaning of the blue roses.

Wait.

Had he? He'd been the one to suggest it, hadn't he?

_According to the books..._ Selphie waved the bouquet around for dramatic flourish. _Blue roses are symbolic of a love that's cherished. Nourished. Which, of course, describes you and Sora._ She waved a hand, but raised it to her chin before voicing the next thought. _Still, there's more to it than that._

_Spit it out, Selph._

_But that love is hopeless... it will never be requited. Never fulfilled._ Selphie shook her head. _Isn't that so sad?_

A shiver reverberated through Kairi's shoulders and down her back. She didn't respond to Selphie's question—not that it mattered.

Selphie's head shot up like she'd just had the epiphany of the century. _Ooh, I heard someone come in! D'you think it's robbers?...Maybe we shouldn't have left the front door open!_

_Don't be silly. It's only...._

But Selphie had already disappeared, slamming the door with force unnatural for her.

Kairi sighed. So much for perfect hairdo; Selphie had left half of her hair down, failing to create the messy/formal look she'd been going for. Now Kairi's hair could best be described as bridal bedhead. _Ugh._

_Hi, Riku!_ Selphie's overtly loud exclamation carried down the hallway and through the closed door. _Kairi's in her room. I'm about to finish her hair—huh? Are you...? Omigod! It's in half an hour? Quick, go get her! We gotta finish her hair in the car! You're driving, right? Right! That's what you're here for. Okay, see ya in a sec...._

She heard the stairs creaking as Selphie descended and he ascended, and she heard her door open. Looking up, she saw him standing in the doorway, one hand holding the door open. She felt something sinking in her, giving rise to something else that surged through her veins.

_Kairi? You ready?_

She looked down, not sure how to answer. She heard the door close. He must have left to start up the car. But then she heard footsteps behind her, and felt a hand light on her shoulder. Riku was standing just behind her. His hand felt heavy on her collarbone, but warm. She didn't want to leave. _Not now._

She turned her head so her cheek brushed his hand, and she closed her eyes. _Hey... I, uh...._

Opening her eyes, Kairi looked at the picture they created in the mirror. It made her heart ache. She, in her white dress and half-done hair and make-up. He, in his tux, most of his face not visible in the mirror. He'd grown too tall. Part of his face was obscured in shadow. Part of hers was obscured by hair not done up. It wasn't picturesque, but she wished they would stay like this a little longer.

_I know about the roses._ Kairi held her breath, not knowing what to expect as far as his reply went.

He said nothing; his mouth twisted, but she couldn't see his eyes.

_Riku... how did we get here?_

He shrugged. _Dunno._

_Well... let's... let's go. Okay?_

She rose; his hand slid off her shoulder. She missed the weight and the warmth, but pushed the thought away to find her shoes. They were strewn in a haphazard manner by the door. She couldn't bend over to place them on her feet—that would rip the dress—and had trouble overturning the left shoe so she could slide her foot in. The imbalance created by standing on one bare foot while the other was clad in high heels did not help.

Riku laughed, thumbing his pockets. _Need help with that?_

This could have been a moment straight out of Cinderella's story. Except that it wasn't.

_Mm, no._ Kairi fumbled some more, but managed to slip it on.

She smiled at him, and made her way to the door. He followed. She stopped in the doorway, and felt him come close to bumping into her. Her head turned—and she would have turned, too, if Riku hadn't lightly pushed against her back. Urging her silently forward.

She thought to herself, _Do you want to go? Then walk._

But she didn't want to walk.

_Kairiii! Riiiku! _Selphie's voice interrupted the moment, bringing Kairi to her senses._ What're you two still doing up there? Get down here! We gotta go!_

And like that, she walked. Made it through the rehearsal. And almost through the official ceremony.

_Almost._

Somehow, she finds herself asking the driver to stop when they crest the beach. He stops the car; she hops out on wobbly legs. She walks off into the sand, taking off her shoes when they start hindering her steps.

Off in the distance, over there, three small wood boats are docked by the shore. Lifting her skirts in one hand and her shoes in the other, she runs down to the little row boats; they clatter against each other, riding the small ripples created by distant waves. She hops into her boat—the feeling of the wood under her feet, of distributing her weight so it doesn't tip over, is all too familiar.

She paddles out to the island, a speck in the distance. _Our island._

Later, much later, she sits on the beach, watching the last remaining light. She'd lit a tiki torch, stabbing it into the sand nearby, but it doesn't do much to illuminate. The sun has sunk, receded into the horizon; all that remains is the afterglow, colours of orange and pink and purple flaring in a darkening sky. In minutes, or an hour—she has lost count—the colours have ceded to darkness, and now the sky in a dark velvety purple. A million diamond stars pepper the sky, hung alongside an opal moon.

She sits at the shore, legs drawn to her chest by arms wrapped tightly around, her chin settled on her knees. The receding shore pulls in and laps at her feet and the hem of her dress but she doesn't even notice or care.

Light footfalls disturb the sounds of nature, but she does not acknowledge the intruder. This scene should be hers, and hers only. She wants to be alone, one among the fireflies and the cold water and the sparkling stars and the bright moon. Alone, alone, alone.

But that want dissipates. He takes a place next to her. She can't see him out of the corner of her eye, and does not acknowledge him—not yet. She knows who he is.

They sit together for a time, still. Watching the stars twinkle, listening to the chirping of the cicadas and the fireflies and the sound of the tide pulling in and pulling out, breathing and tasting only the salty air and her perfume.

Kairi thinks, meanwhile.

Her thoughts drift to Sora. She loves Sora. She does.

But not in the way everyone presumes she does. She doesn't know why they always presumed things about her and _Sora_, why _Riku _was always left out, just that it had always been that way, from the very beginning. People gave them one look and assumed, and they wrote them off. From a young age, the two were pushed together. _No _was just not an acceptable answer to _Will you be my girlfriend?_ both in his eyes and those of everyone else.

Years later, _no _was not an answer to _Will you marry me?_ either.

She'd given in to their assumptions. His, too. She couldn't break his heart. After all, he'd carried his heart in hers, hadn't he? _Isn't this what you wanted all along?_

But somewhere along the line, things changed. She started to feel nauseous around him. Her stomach always felt unsettled when they became intimate, like she was just on the verge of doubling over and puking all over her shoes. When he took her hand in his. When his lips met hers. When he touched her. There was a part of her, make no mistake, that kind of, sort of, liked it; but it quickly gave way to the the dominant part that screamed with all its might for her to recoil, to walk away, to end it there.

But she didn't want to disappoint them.

They were the golden couple, linked by the thread of destiny.

And there was no denying that. But she felt, more and more, they were linked as brother and sister. He was like her twin brother, so close, so similar, like his soul was a part of hers. And that's why every time he touched her intimately, she felt disgusted with herself. No one else could see it, no one else could feel it. She, alone, did.

_Had _he_ seen it? Had Riku seen it?_

Riku... Over time, they became distanced. As time wore on, it felt like they became more and more disconnected, like they couldn't exchange a word that wasn't small talk or look into each other's eyes without feeling emotions they couldn't allow themselves to feel for each other. To her he was cordial and polite and reserved; to him she was cold and aloof and unapproachable.

The rift widened into a chasm. She feels, now, like she is standing on the edge, calling out to him, looking for him in the distance, but it is too dark, and he can't hear her. One step forward and she falls into the abyss; one step backward and he joins her.

_Is it better to jump, or am I to build a bridge to you? Is it too late?_

Finally she speaks.

"You know why I couldn't go through with it?" She turns to him, and her smile is not as lively as she wants it to be. "I think I'd just be lying to myself."

She relaxes the death grip on her legs and stretches them out, digging her toes into the wet sand. Her index traces figure eights in the sand.

Figure eights, or symbols of eternity; she's not sure.

She stops, and then leans back, bracing her palms against the sand and turning to him, looking as nonchalant as possible with smeared makeup and bad hair and a dirt-stained skirt and a smile that keeps on faltering.

"I...." She falters once more, and pulls at the thalassa shell necklace.

He unclasps it for her; she pulls it away, and holds it out to him, though she doesn't feel ready to surrender it yet, eyes trained on the necklace—focused. "This felt so heavy, like it was going to drag me down, and then... well, it wasn't a sudden realisation. This was a long time coming, but standing there... I was almost going to throw the chance away to do what was right." She sighs, taking a breather before continuing. "You understand, don't you?"

With a cupped hand she picks up a pile of sand, lets it sift through her fingers. She does not need to explain. She can see, in his eyes, that he understands.

"Did you know--all along? Why didn't you say anything? I would have...." She lets out a heavy sigh, and holds the necklace out, star side up: he places a hand over it.

"How could I do that? It would hurt Sora, and it would have hurt you, too." He sighs, takes the necklace. "And besides, what could I have done? It's one of those things you have to do by yourself. And you did the right thing. For you."

_For once._

Kairi laughs, and she stands up. She turns around, holding a hand out to Riku to pull him to his feet. "Come on, Riku. Let's go swimming. The water's nice."

"Isn't it...?" He looks behind her.

"Aw, come on." She pouts, and then brightens, turning. "Last one in!" She releases his hand and runs off, and when the water is up to her ankles, she stops to wave a hand and beckon him. "Come on, Riku!"

Brief thoughts flit in her mind. She smiles. He's standing there, by the shore, hands in his pockets, like he's unsure if he should cross the bridge or no.

She has. She finally has crossed the bridge; he just has to join her. He has to.

_Please._

Then both of them are peeling off their clothes, just like old times, except she's shedding a wedding dress and he's taking off a tux. He joins her; she grabs his hand and pulls him into the water, and it's just like old times, except it's not.

* * *

**The End**

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**Author's Notes:** So, Part II was supposed to be about a thousand words, but it ended up at just under five thousand. And I finished it a lot faster than I thought I would; I just wanted to get this out the door so I could focus on other things.

I edited this to the best of my ability, but if you catch any errors or have any constructive criticism, I'd be glad to hear it. Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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